A DoubleSided Record
by HannahSheep
Summary: Mello muses on certain things in his life, including his ongoing problems with mania, as well as depression.
1. Side A

**Side A: Mania**

I'm sick and tired of bursts of manic confidence. The sudden feeling that you can do anything no matter how crazy it seems…you say, "I'm finally going to get things right." Wasting time and money planning to do things you'll never finish. You feel like you've finally found your calling, your real friends, the love of your life, your identity…your place in the world. You blindly make moves and take risks without thinking about the consequences. To you, the consequences don't matter anyways, because you've finally got this whole "life" thing figured out.

You laugh too much, you don't sleep enough.

Your hopes, dreams, self-esteem…it all builds, and builds, and builds.. This is when you realize, "This is the happiest I've been in a long, long time. Your thoughts continue to flit around. All those hopes and dreams keep building, but it's getting dangerous now.

Through all of this, there has been the small, ghost of a voice, trying and trying to get your attention; but it can't, because it's suffocating beneath all of your racing thoughts. But now that you've reached the top, it finally is able to take in enough oxygen to warn you,

"_Stop," it whispers, "You know this won't last much longer…this distorted reality that you've been thrown into. None of it will last, and you know that. You know." _

Though the voice is right, you're so caught up in all of it, that you can't quit. You're like a junkie; reckless and dependent on this false reality that's been created for you.

And then…one day, without warning…all those hopes and dreams and self-esteem…they've built up too much, and they overflow. They come crashing down to earth, taking you with them. It's a sickening feeling…like you've just been dropped, your organs shifting around. That's what actually happens, really…just in an emotional sense. When you finally realize what's happened, it's too late. You've suddenly hit absolute bottom and you know that you can't climb back to the top.

This cycle will start again in a few weeks; but not before a period of unbelievable depression.

But, for now, you're left alone, crying, wondering why all that happiness and strength had to go away. And all the while, that voice, louder, now that you've come down from your high, just keeps saying in your ear,

"_I told you so."_


	2. Track 1

31/12/1969 17:52:00

**Side A**

**Track 1**

**Manic Aftermath**

I said that there would be a part two to help explain the depression. But, if you paid any attention at all last time, you should realize that probably won't happen. And now you're probably saying, "Moron, isn't this a part two?" My answer is no. No it is not. This is more of an afterthought. It's not what I had planned. I guess I really didn't have a plan before, though…I wonder if I'll end up keeping this in my wallet like my other one. I keep it there to remind myself to keep my feet on the ground. I doubt it will work, though.

I noticed early this morning that my fingers looked pretty good. My cuticles weren't torn up like usual, other than a small cut on my left index finger. I tend to pick at them without realizing it. I figured that it was probably because I was busy with my hands all weekend (not like that, you perverts). I actually kept myself busy…got two things done. That's pretty good, when it comes to me. If I get anything done, it's a miracle. I usually make it through half of one of my "projects" before I give up or lose interest and move on to the next one. My mind can't stay in one place too long. Like right now, for example. I don't remember what all I was going to write about because I moved to a more comfortable location to write.

Where was I? Cuticles, right?

Right…well. I was pretty happy about it. As the morning went on, I realized that I was picking at them again. So now, though they're not nearly as bad as they usually are, they're not as nice as they were this morning. It's kind of disappointing.

I hate how I write…I become careless and my writing gets bigger and sloppier as I go on. But I think maybe it's because I'm writing with a blue pen. I despise blue pens.

You know, I feel like I need to apologize. This isn't like the last one that I wrote. You guys probably weren't expecting something so mediocre for a follow up. For that, I am sorry. And though, last time, I was, in fact, the narrator…I addressed you. I didn't say 'I' but once or twice, and that was in dialogue. So, I apologize for this "first person" business. Plus, my sentences seem to be lacking clever analogies and strong vocabulary that help convey my emotions. Once again, sorry.

I'm not quite sure what's wrong with me right now. The mania I was talking about before…the day before I wrote it, I came down from my manic high. Crashed down, I should say. But it's the strangest thing…I braced myself for the depression that always follows…but this time, nothing happened. I mean, I was upset for a moment or two, but there was no severe aftermath. I actually felt okay. Not the euphoric state I'm in when I'm manic…but not the sad either. I was just…content. Happy.

I don't know.

Confusing.  
I'll keep you updated.

**AUTHOR NOTE**

**Hey guys. I apologize. I wrote this yesterday and I wasn't feeling quite the same as I did the day before with my mania paper. The others will be better, I'm sorry. You have to remember though…I'm writing as me. I'm writing my thoughts. They just work for Mello as well. Makes for a good story and whatnot. Reviews would be lovely! -sheepy**


	3. Track 2

31/12/1969 17:16:00

**Side A**

**Track Two  
**_**A Glint of Envy**_

I suppose I should address my jealousy problem. Well…believe it or not, it's really not much of a problem anymore.

At first, I hated him. Wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. But after some strange turn of events, we became friends. Honest to God, we were. We were always doing things together, and my best friend…well, he was pretty jealous. Throughout the course of a year, the things that I had been known to excel at were slipping away from me. They started going to him. He started to surpass me, get all the attention, and take what I wanted for myself. We started being around each other less and less because I was bitter.

It was when he started getting other friends when I really lost it. When we became friends, he had no one, more or less. I felt like I helped make him who he was. It was my work, and I was getting no credit at all. I finally blew up and told him exactly how I felt. I told him I was jealous of him, that I wanted everything t hat he had. I also informed him of my hatred towards him.

After that, as you can imagine, we didn't talk anymore or see each other much. Nevertheless, I would make wake up a few times a week thinking only about how much I loathed him. I tried so hard to outshine him. He actually caught me a few times, embarrassing me so my hate only grew.

It was just my best friend and I again…which I was fine with. I actually tried to mend the friendship between him and I a few times. But it always backfired. I would find something else to be jealous of, and after that, I wanted nothing to do with him.

After quite awhile of not seeing or hearing from each other, my feelings towards him were more or less indifferent. My hate and jealousy had pretty much subsided. That is, until I found out my best friend had started spending time with him. To me, it happened so randomly…but that's probably because I was too wrapped up in my own world to see it. Too busy with my half-formed plans and ideas that were racing through my mind to pay attention to what was slowly unfolding.

So here I am now…I don't really see much of him anymore.

I don't see much of my best friend anymore either.

I suppose that I'm still jealous…  
But the envy is really just an undertone of the apathy.

**.**


End file.
